The Armourer's Prentices Page 4

  CHAPTER FOUR.

  A HERO'S FALL.

  "These four came all afront and mainly made at me. I made no more ado,but took their seven points on my target--thus--"

  Shakespeare.

  The journey to Alton was eventless. It was slow, for the day was abroiling one, and the young foresters missed their oaks and beeches, asthey toiled over the chalk downs that rose and sank in endlesssuccession; though they would hardly have slackened their pace if it hadnot been for poor old Spring, who was sorely distressed by the heat andthe want of water on the downs. Every now and then he lay down, pantingdistressfully, with his tongue hanging out, and his young masters alwayswaited for him, often themselves not sorry to rest in the fragment ofshade from a solitary thorn or juniper.

  The track was plain enough, and there were hamlets at long intervals.Flocks of sheep fed on the short grass, but there was no approaching theshepherds, as they and their dogs regarded Spring as an enemy, to bereceived with clamour, stones, and teeth, in spite of the dejected lookswhich might have acquitted him of evil intentions.

  The travellers reached Alton in the cool of the evening, and were kindlyreceived by a monk, who had charge of a grange just outside the littletown, near one of the springs of the River Wey.

  The next day's journey was a pleasanter one, for there was more of woodand heather, and they had to skirt round the marshy borders of variousbogs. Spring was happier, being able to stop and lap whenever he would,and the whole scene was less unfriendly to them. But they scarcely madespeed enough, for they were still among tall whins and stiff scrub ofheather when the sun began to get low, gorgeously lighting the tallplumes of golden broom, and they had their doubts whether they might notbe off the track; but in such weather, there was nothing alarming inspending a night out of doors, if only they had something for supper.Stephen took a bolt from the purse at his girdle, and bent his crossbow,so as to be ready in case a rabbit sprang out, or a duck flew up fromthe marshes.

  A small thicket of trees was in sight, and they were making for it, whensounds of angry voices were heard, and Spring, bristling up the mane onhis neck, and giving a few premonitory fierce growls like thunder,bounded forward as though he had been seven years younger. Stephendarted after him, Ambrose rushed after Stephen, and breaking through thetrees, they beheld the dog at the throat of one of three men. As theycame on the scene, the dog was torn down and hurled aside, giving a howlof agony, which infuriated his master. Letting fly his crossbow boltfull at the fellow's face, he dashed on, reckless of odds, waving hisknotted stick, and shouting with rage. Ambrose, though more aware ofthe madness of such an assault, still hurried to his support, and wasamazed as well as relieved to find the charge effectual. Withoutwaiting to return a blow, the miscreants took to their heels, andStephen, seeing nothing but his dog, dropped on his knees beside thequivering creature, from whose neck blood was fast pouring. One glanceof the faithful wistful eyes, one feeble movement of the expressivetail, and Spring had made his last farewell! That was all Stephen wasconscious of; but Ambrose could hear the cry, "Good sirs, good lads, setme free!" and was aware of a portly form bound to a tree. As he cut therope with his knife, the rescued traveller hurried out thanks anddemands--"Where are the rest of you?" and on the reply that there wereno more, proceeded, "Then we must on, on at once, or the villains willreturn! They must have thought you had a band of hunters behind you.Two furlongs hence, and we shall be safe in the hostel at Dogmersfield.Come on, my boy," to Stephen, "the brave hound is quite dead, more's thepity. Thou canst do no more for him, and we shall soon be in his caseif we dally here."

  "I cannot cannot leave him thus," sobbed Stephen, who had the loving oldhead on his knees. "Ambrose! stay, we must bring him. There, his tailwagged! If the blood were staunched--"

  "Stephen! Indeed he is stone dead! Were he our brother we could not dootherwise," reasoned Ambrose, forcibly dragging his brother to his feet."Go on we must. Wouldst have us all slaughtered for his sake? Come!The rogues will be upon us anon. Spring saved this good man's life.Undo not his work. See. Is yonder your horse, sir? This way, Stevie!"

  The instinct of catching the horse roused Stephen, and it was soonaccomplished, for the steed was a plump, docile, city-bred palfrey, withdapple-grey flanks like well-stuffed satin pincushions, by no meansresembling the shaggy Forest ponies of the boys' experience, but quiteastray in the heath, and ready to come at the master's whistle; and callof "Soh Soh!--now Poppet!" Stephen caught the bridle, and Ambrosehelped the burgess into the saddle. "Now, good boys," he said, "each ofyou lay a hand on my pommel. We can make good speed ere the rascalsfind out our scant numbers."

  "You would make better speed without us, sir," said Stephen, hankeringto remain beside poor Spring.

  "Eye think Giles Headley the man to leave two children, that have maybesaved my life as well as my purse, to bear the malice of the robbers?"demanded the burgess angrily. "That were like those fellows of mine whohave shown their heels and left their master strapped to a tree! Thou!thou! what's thy name, that hast the most wit, bring thy brother, unlessthou wouldst have him laid by the side of his dog."

  Stephen was forced to comply, and run by Poppet's side, though his eyeswere so full of tears that he could not see his way, even when the paceslackened, and in the twilight they found themselves among houses andgardens, and thus in safety, the lights of an inn shining not far off.

  A figure came out in the road to meet them, crying, "Master! master! isit you? and without scathe? Oh, the saints be praised!"

  "Ay, Tibble, 'tis I and no other, thanks to the saints and to thesebrave lads! What, man, I blame thee not, I know thou canst not strike;but where be the rest?"

  "In the inn, sir. I strove to call up the hue and cry to come to therescue, but the cowardly hinds were afraid of the thieves, and not onewould come forth."

  "I wish they may not be in league with them," said Master Headley."See! I was delivered--ay, and in time to save my purse, by these twainand their good dog. Are ye from these parts, my fair lads?"

  "We be journeying from the New Forest to London," said Ambrose. "Thepoor dog heard the tumult, and leapt to your aid, sir, and we made afterhim."

  "'Twas the saints sent him!" was the fervent answer.

  "And," (with a lifting of the cap), "I hereby vow to Saint Julian ahound of solid bronze a foot in length, with a collar of silver, to hisshrine in Saint Faith's, in token of my deliverance in body and goods!To London are ye bound? Then will we journey on together!"

  They were by this time near the porch of a large country hostel, fromthe doors and large bay window of which light streamed out. And as thecasement was open, those without could both see and hear all that waspassing within.

  The table was laid for supper, and in the place of honour sat a youth ofsome seventeen or eighteen years, gaily dressed, with a little feathercurling over his crimson cap, and thus discoursing:--

  "Yea, my good host, two of the rogues bear my tokens, besides him whom Ifelled to the earth. He came on at me with his sword, but I had mypoint ready for him; and down he went before me like an ox. Then cameon another, but him I dealt with by the back stroke as used in the tilt-yard at Clarendon."

  "I trow we shall know him again, sir. Holy saints to think such rascalsshould haunt so nigh us," the hostess was exclaiming. "Pity for thepoor goodman, Master Headley. A portly burgher was he, friendly oftongue and free of purse. I well remember him when he went forth on hisway to Salisbury, little thinking, poor soul, what was before him. Andis he truly sped?"

  "I tell thee, good woman, I saw him go down before three of their pikes.What more could I do but drive my horse over the nearest rogue who wasrifling him?"

  "If he were still alive--which Our Lady grant!--the knaves will hold himto ransom," quoth the host, as he placed a tankard on the table.

  "I am afraid he is past," said the youth, shaking his head. "But an ifhe be still in the rogues' hands and living, I will get me on to hishouse in Cheap
side, and arrange with his mother to find the needful sum,as befits me, I being his heir and about to wed his daughter. However,I shall do all that in me lies to get the poor old seignior out of thehands of the rogues. Saints defend me!"

  "The poor old seignior is much beholden to thee," said Master Headley,advancing amid a clamour of exclamations from three or four serving-menor grooms, one protesting that he thought his master was with him,another that his horse ran away with him, one showing an arm which wasactually being bound up, and the youth declaring that he rode off tobring help.

  "Well wast thou bringing it," Master Headley answered. "I might bestill standing bound like an eagle displayed, against yonder tree, foraught you fellows reeked."

  "Nay, sir, the odds--" began the youth.

  "Odds! such odds as were put to rout--by what, deem you? These twostriplings and one poor hound. Had but one of you had the heart of asparrow, ye had not furnished a tale to be the laugh of the Barbican andCheapside. Look well at them. How old be you, my brave lads?"

  "I shall be sixteen come Lammas day, and Stephen fifteen at Martinmasday, sir," said Ambrose; "but verily we did nought. We could have donenought had not the thieves thought more were behind us."

  "There are odds between going forward and backward," said MasterHeadley, dryly. "Ha! Art hurt? Thou bleedst," he exclaimed, layinghis hand on Stephen's shoulder, and drawing him to the light.

  "'Tis no blood of mine," said Stephen, as Ambrose likewise came to joinin the examination. "It is my poor Spring's. He took the coward'sblow. His was all the honour, and we have left him there on the heath!"And he covered his face with his hands.

  "Come, come, my good child," said Master Headley; "we will back to theplace by times to-morrow when rogues hide and honest men walk abroad.Thou shalt bury thine hound, as befits a good warrior, on the battle-field. I would fain mark his points for the effigy we will frame,honest Tibble, for Saint Julian. And mark ye, fellows, thou godsonGiles, above all, who 'tis that boast of their valour, and who 'tis thatbe modest of speech. Yea, thanks, mine host. Let us to a chamber, andgive us water to wash away soil of travel and of fray, and then tosupper. Young masters, ye are my guests. Shame were it that GilesHeadley let go farther them that have, under Heaven and Saint Julian,saved him in life, limb, and purse."

  The inn was large, being the resort of many travellers from the south,often of nobles and knights riding to Parliament, and thus the brothersfound themselves accommodated with a chamber, where they could preparefor the meal, while Ambrose tried to console his brother by representingthat, after all, poor Spring had died gallantly, and with far less painthan if he had suffered a wasting old age, besides being honoured forever by his effigy in Saint Faith's, wherever that might be, the ideawhich chiefly contributed to console his master.

  The two boys appeared in the room of the inn looking so unlike thedusty, blood-stained pair who had entered, that Master Headley took asecond glance to convince himself that they were the same, beforebeckoning them to seats on either side of him, saying that he must knowmore of them, and bidding the host load their trenchers well from thegrand fabric of beef-pasty which had been set at the end of the board.The runaways, four or five in number, herded together lower down, with afew travellers of lower degree, all except the youth who had beenboasting before their arrival, and who retained his seat at the board,thumping it with the handle of his knife to show his impatience for thecommencement of supper; and not far off sat Tibble, the same who hadhailed their arrival, a thin, slight, one-sided looking person, with aterrible red withered scar on one cheek, drawing the corner of his mouthawry. He, like Master Headley himself, and the rest of his party wereclad in red, guarded with white, and wore the cross of Saint George onthe white border of their flat crimson caps, being no doubt in thelivery of their Company. The citizen himself, having in the meantimedrawn his conclusions from the air and gestures of the brothers, andtheir mode of dealing with their food, asked the usual question in anaffirmative tone, "Ye be of gentle blood, young sirs?"

  To which they replied by giving their names, and explaining that theywere journeying from the New Forest to find their uncle in the train ofthe Archbishop of York.

  "Birkenholt," said Tibble, meditatively. "He beareth vert, a buck'shead proper, on a chief argent, two arrows in saltire. Crest, a buckcourant, pierced in the gorge by an arrow, all proper."

  To which the brothers returned by displaying the handles of theirknives, both of which bore the pierced and courant buck.

  "Ay, ay," said the man. "'Twill be found in our books, sir. We paintedthe shield and new-crested the morion the first year of my prenticeship,when the Earl of Richmond, the late King Harry of blessed memory, hadnewly landed at Milford Haven."

  "Verily," said Ambrose, "our uncle Richard Birkenholt fought at Bosworthunder Sir Richard Pole's banner."

  "A tall and stalwart esquire, methinks," said Master Headley. "Is hethe kinsman you seek?"

  "Not so, sir. We visited him at Winchester, and found him sorely oldand with failing wits. We be on our way to our mother's brother, MasterHarry Randall."

  "Is he clerk or layman? My Lord of York entertaineth enow of both,"said Master Headley.

  "Lay assuredly, sir," returned Stephen; "I trust to him to find me somepreferment as page or the like."

  "Know'st thou the man, Tibble?" inquired the master.

  "Not among the men-at-arms, sir," was the answer; "but there be a manyof them whose right names we never hear. However, he will be easilyfound if my Lord of York be returned from Windsor with his train."

  "Then will we go forward together, my young Masters Birkenholt. I amnot going to part with my doughty champions!"--patting Stephen'sshoulder. "Ye'd not think that these light-heeled knaves belonged tothe brave craft of armourers."

  "Certainly not," thought the lads, whose notion of armourers was derivedfrom the brawny blacksmith of Lyndhurst, who sharpened their boar spearsand shod their horses. They made some kind of assent, and MasterHeadley went on. "These be the times. This is what peace hath broughtus to! I am called down to Salisbury to take charge of the goods,chattels, and estate of my kinsman, Robert Headley--Saints rest hissoul!--and to bring home yonder spark, my godson, whose indentures havebeen made over to me. And I may not ride a mile after sunset withoutbeing set upon by a sort of robbers, who must have guessed over-wellwhat a pack of cowards they had to deal with."

  "Sir," cried the younger Giles, "I swear to you that I struck right andleft. I did all that man could do, but these rogues of serving-men,they fled, and dragged me along with them, and I deemed you were of ourcompany till we dismounted."

  "Did you so? Methought anon you saw me go down with three pikes in mybreast. Come, come, godson Giles, speech will not mend it! Thou artbut a green, town-bred lad, a mother's darling, and mayst be a brave manyet, only don't dread to tell the honest truth that you were afeard, asmany a better man might be."

  The host chimed in with tales of the thieves and outlaws who then, andindeed for many later generations, infested Bagshot heath, and the wildmoorland tracks around. He seemed to think that the travellers had hada hair's-breadth escape, and that a few seconds' more delay might haverevealed the weakness of the rescuers and have been fatal to them.

  However there was no danger so near the village in the morning, and,somewhat to Stephen's annoyance, the whole place turned out to inspectthe spot, and behold the burial of poor Spring, who was found stretchedon the heather, just as he had been left the night before. He wasinterred under the stunted oak where Master Headley had been tied.While the grave was dug with a spade borrowed at the inn, Ambroseundertook to cut out the dog's name on the bark, but he had hardly madethe first incision when Tibble, the singed foreman, offered to do it forhim, and made a much more sightly inscription than he could have done.Master Headley's sword was found honourably broken under the tree, andwas reserved to form a base for his intended _ex voto_. He uttered thevow in due form like a funeral oration, when Stephen,
with a swellingheart, had laid the companion of his life in the little grave, which wasspeedily covered in.